The South-Indian Film Hero
It’s been eons since my last post.
If only I had as much dedication as I do in binge watching, I would have become at least half an Ernest Hemingway by now. But sigh!
Watching so much television has made me creative, not necessarily in a good way though. A whole range of what-if scenarios and crossovers take shape in my drama dosed mind.
If you have ever watched South Indian action movies, you know they are a spectacle to all the senses. There is drama, romance, animations, groovy numbers, pulse-racing background music, emotion, comedy and suspense, all squeezed between umpteen fight-scenes, all invariably shot in slow motion. There is something for everyone.
The one thing that puzzles me is the super-human strength that the protagonists often exhibit in these movies. The hero can beat hundred guys to dust, break a brick wall, lift a four wheeler, dodge several hundreds of bullets, do matrix-like stunts, all with a bullet to the stomach and a knife to his back. He is so resilient that he will be covered in blood but never cries out nor stops. A roaring background music that is sure to make your heart race is punctuated only by the audible biffs and whams, the sound of the hero’s biceps in action. You might have thought that his bones were made of brass.
Goons armed with weapons charge at the protagonist, only to be sent flying in all directions. The crowds marvel as the hero throws goon after goon, breaking and upturning stuff. As a kid I often wondered, who would pay the shopkeeper for his broken stuff or the poor fruit cart vendor for his smashed fruits. It was only later that I learned that those were all “props” arranged specifically for the fight scenes. I can imagine a writer relishing those writing those scenes: “Hmm..last time it was a market, before that it was a factory. This time, let the fight happen in a chemistry lab. There is so much glass to break!”
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good action-packed drama any day. Whether most of us admit or not, these are guilty pleasures that we don’t particularly disclose. But I feel that the god-like portrayal of the protagonists is a mockery to the tolerance level of us mere mortals.
If PK, the alien Amir Khan, watched South Indian movies to know about humans, he would have thought they were far advanced species with demi-god like powers, who could withstand copious amount of pain, while also mastering the art of dance, romance and emotion. I don’t know if aliens exist, but if they did, I’m sure even they would have a complex in front of this do-it-all hero with the hyper-talented genes.
Most of us live regular, non-Rajinikanth-style lives. My pain tolerance, especially, is on the other end. I slip and fall down the stairs and I’m on bed rest for a week due to ankle sprain. My little toe makes an unsuspecting contact with the corner of the bed and I’m holding my leg trying not to cry. Why, my aunt can make me cry just by asking where my life is going.
I sometimes think we should petition the movie makers to show the other end. The regular, average Joes and Janes like us. If you beat us with a log, no, the log won’t break. Yes, we will bruise like a peach, maybe even break a bone. The hero can afford to be a super bad-ass and always get his way, while most of us are still thinking of come-backs to their boss’s comments in last September.
Most of us are mature enough to know that most of it is harmless exaggeration. But the naiver humans, the children and the teens may get the wrong ideas. That it’s easy to get your way, that it’s okay to beat up people or that it’s fine to harass girls. Because what is endearing or powerful or masculine in a movie is often arrogance or simply wrong in real life.
What is okay to be shown in movies is a long, painful, never-ending debate, one that only the movie hero may endure. So, instead of telling the storywriters what to portray, we should probably train ourselves on what is realistic. Human brains, hopefully are smart enough to understand, that just because the hero breaks into a dance in the middle of a lecture, we shouldn’t. We might get suspended, or worse, someone could record and upload our awkward grooving skills for the world to see.
No wonder the occasional fanatic needs that disclaimer: ‘Listen, weirdo. This stunt was performed under controlled conditions by an experience stuntman, advanced VFX and about two dozen retakes. Don’t try this at home’